


youre terribly favoured ( by heaven and above )

by swiggityswinoitscarlino



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mount Silver, really a just sort of bit from Red's perspective on why he's on mount silver i guess???, self reflective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 18:30:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2742677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swiggityswinoitscarlino/pseuds/swiggityswinoitscarlino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Close your eyes, Red. It’ll come to you eventually.</p>
<p>Like most things.</p>
<p>Itll come to you eventually.</p>
<p>And the only person who’s gonna be surprised is you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	youre terribly favoured ( by heaven and above )

**Author's Note:**

> hi friends!! sorry i only really post a thing on here like... every year or so. i always sort of jump in and out of my Red muse but after recently joining a ring, i think i've found him again! of course this whole thing doesn't completely summarize every reason that i think Red went to mount silver, but it's sort of touching on it. 
> 
> enjoy!! im hoping to start work on a multichapter fic soon for red and green in a modern day au / u \

Red had never felt bitterness when it came to the ease in which life came to him. Of course, from the receiving end, it’d be ridiculous for him to feel anything _but_ ease, and from Green’s edge, Red respected his sickening luck almost as much as he respected the gift Red possessed for Pokemon. That being, little at all- A complicated, frustrating sentiment, as to Red, life was never something that came easy. Each time someone made eye contact and his lungs closed up, he felt anything but lucky. When he was asked to speak and all that came out was nervous, breathless air that others promptly dismissed it as sickness, Red felt no ease whatsoever. --And as their friendship deteriorated far into their journey, and Red kept winning and winning and winning, all he saw when Green looked at him was disdain for the simplicity and lack of conflict in which Red walked about his life.

As Red existed atop Mount Silver with all the frostbite and blood infections and starvation that such a naturally frail body could take, Red saw no ease in the cards fate had dealt. At some angles, he had dealt them to himself—The decision to hike up a mountain on some existential crisis, a mission to discover his worth had been less than well thought over. And yet—As each day passed and he felt no more thoughtful or whole or an enlightened as the day before, Red felt quite unlucky, in all truth. Perhaps to a higher degree, especially on dark, feverish nights where he’d forgotten to button his coat during training the morning before and suffered far far later in a dazed haze but— Still quite unlucky. But it wouldn’t be fair to say so.

There are still stained words, sitting deep in the cavities of his ears.

_You’ll be fine, no matter what happens._

_It’s unfair._

_It’s stupid._

_Nothing bad’ll ever happen to you._

… All things which proved to be true. Quite unfortunately, as by year three, Red was near begging for fate to teach him just how unlucky life could be and yet, pity was shown, flying above him in ripping cries Red could only pinpoint belonging to a legendary. He grew frustrated, as Green’s echoing voice, young but just as intimidating as he could only imagine it would be now, repeating and repeating and repeating every slimy, sticky word that drilled Red deeper within his personal crisis. If he was so lucky, why did he seek something so unattainable? Where was wholeness if not here—You cannot be the best, cannot be so lucky and so gifted and yet feeling so so empty—

His voice deteriorates with each passing month, tones whittled down to only those needed for the soft coos and cries of the Pokemon atop Mount Silver, language left behind with his thoughts and his Pokedex. He begins to walk through the snow barefoot, shedding his shoes in favour of growing blue discomfort that at least brought _something_. He finds peace in this way.

And when he closes his eyes, and gives in just once and a while, he can remember why he stays.

_You’ve never had to work for anything._

_Someone’s watching out for you and it’s not fair._

_I deserve it too. ( which he did. )_

This, Red had to work for. Living, he had to work for. The mountain, he had to work for. A mountain cannot bend to just a boy with feeble fingers and emotions rampant with isolated confusion- And though he spoke fondly to each legendary, whether governing time or space or the torrential rains or fire above, he had to work for it. To open his heart and survive primarily alone, learning instead of hurting, and accepting instead of denying. When his heart is open, he finds himself dwelling more. Thinking more. Of what was supposed to be, what could have been. Before Green became angry and Red closed in his mouth, his mind and his body, parting ways as rivals and no longer friends ( friends burying little rings in the sandbox with a five year olds promise of forever and best friend ) . But everything came easy, and to children, fairness and equality were required. Almost a necessity.

Each time he wakes up after a nasty fall or a disaster of an infected cut, Red remembers- blessed and cursed with the loudest tape recorder memory Red has ever had the pleasure and pain of hearing.

_Close your eyes, Red._

_It’ll come to you eventually._

_Like most things. Itll come to you eventually._

_And the only person who’s gonna be surprised is you._

… And he isn’t surprised. Not anymore.

When he looks into the eyes of Pokemon and practically feels their trust and love with no effort on Red, he acknowledges no gift or surprise. He eliminates the aspects in his life that were less than unlucky- the fear of people, his tied tongue in the face of anyone but his mother, his stumbling feet and pale, shallow body. Without these things, Red is lucky, and he is no longer surprised.

He begs for the emotion of gratitude, wakes up each morning praying that perhaps today, he may learn to appreciate or understand—May understand that death does indeed come to those with far too much luck- that pain was something he was able to comprehend. Lucky or gifted as he may be. He realizes later that pain is but a friend of his, not a ghost or an unknown force on the other side. Each time he remembers or allows himself to sink into a warmer world of his mother and of his most favourite colour, of the grass growing rampant around his home or of the vibrant base tone of a familiar starter, he experiences pain.

But to do so, he must understand how lucky he truly he is.

… Red sincerely hopes that revelation happens soon.

He’d love to go home.

Not for another few years, but he truly would love to go home.


End file.
